


Habitual

by orphan_account



Series: Reunion [6]
Category: The Legend of Zelda: The Wind Waker
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Gen, Insomnia, Sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-07-25 12:04:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7532071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Link can't sleep. The solution is closer than he'd thought possible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Habitual

**Author's Note:**

> For my wonderful anonymous commissioner again!

Link is anxious.

He’s anxious because everything is over—has been over for months—but suddenly it feels like it shouldn’t be. He keeps having feelings of anticipation that shouldn’t be there. Like he still has more to do. Like there are more dangers to overcome. Like a switch has been flipped on in his brain telling him to _go, go, go_ out and _do_ something. He still feels like there’s so much more he has to accomplish.

He knows, logically, that there isn’t. Aryll is safe. The _world_ is safe. Even Daphnes is back with them. Everything is normal, everything is fine. Except it feels like it isn’t, and it’s turning him into an absolute nervous wreck.

After spending so much time on constant high-alert, with danger lurking around every corner, he wonders if he’ll ever be able to turn it off again. He hasn’t been able to sleep for _days_ , and there’s no concrete reason as to _why_. No nightmares plague the few hours he manages to sneak in most evenings, nobody disturbs him during the night. Outset Island is peaceful as ever, and everything is as it should be.

That doesn’t make it any easier.

In fact, it only makes it more frustrating. Because he doesn’t have any idea what he should _do_ with all his pent-up feelings, and exhaustion just dials them up to twelve on a scale of one to ten.

He’s on edge when he’s tired. Jumpy, and maybe _just_ a little irritable (even though he really, truly tries his best not to be). Grandma asks him if everything is okay, and he doesn’t know how to articulate that it’s not, so he just nods. He feels guilty for lying to her, but he honestly doesn’t know what else to do. It’s not like she could do anything to help even if she knew.

Instead of waiting out the nights staring at the ceiling, he starts taking walks after everyone else is asleep. Having no set destination in mind, he simply wanders until his tired brain can take no more and he’s able to return and drop off for an hour or two. As far as he is aware, nobody suspects a thing.

It’s not exactly what he had hoped for after returning home. Especially with Daphnes there—back with them for good—but he doesn’t know what else to _do._

He can’t tell Grandma, can’t tell Aryll, and most definitely can’t tell the King. It’s embarrassing to have to admit your own thoughts are controlling you, and not the other way around. And besides that, he doesn’t want to burden anyone else with this. Doesn’t want them to know he can’t figure out his own brain. Doesn’t want them to worry about something they could never help with.

So he stays quiet, hoping it will all go away on its own.

All the while knowing that it won’t.

 

Daphnes knows something strange is going on with Link.

He’s been subdued. Less excitable—but not relaxed, either.

For instance, the boy no longer wakes him up at the crack of dawn with about a million things he wants to do that day. He’s _up_ at that same ungodly time, sure, but he no longer seems to get that mischievous thrill from waking Daphnes up anymore. And while it’s nice to sleep in occasionally, it’s also a little unsettling to have the morning routine so turned on its head.

In fact, Link doesn’t seem very interested in doing much of _anything_ anymore. He doesn’t seem to get the same measure of joy out of life that once came so easily to him. If invited, he’ll go for a walk, or visit the neighbors, or collect seashells, or go fishing, or any number of activities—but he’s never the one to instigate them. He always has to be asked, and it always seems like he’s agreeing just to pass the time, not because he really wants to.

It’s strange, because it doesn’t feel like a new manifestation of laziness. Though Link has been known to slack off sometimes when and where he can, this doesn’t seem like that at all—there’s no fun in it. He’s not doing it for his own gratification. He goes through the motions just for the sake of going through the motions.

Something is weighing on him, the King thinks. Something going on in his head that’s overtaking his usually cheerful disposition. It’s like a chunk of the life has been sucked out of him, and Daphnes doesn’t like it at all.

He doesn’t want to confront the boy, though. He has no way to gauge his potential reaction, and the last thing he needs is to put Link on the defensive so he’ll _never_ open up to him. No, a direct confrontation is simply not the way to go.

But he needs to know. Needs to know if he’s alright—and if he’s not, if there’s anything he can do to help. It’s the paternal instinct within him that yearns to do anything—anything at all—to help Link if he’s hurting in some way.

So he waits, watches, and tries to see if he can figure out this mystery on his own before coming up with a plan to offer his assistance.

It’s the very least he can do, for now.

 

Link is exhausted.

He’s trying everything—anything he can think of to make his brain quiet down, but nothing is working. He’s completely given up on returning to bed after his walks, instead taking his chances wherever he happens to collapse in a heap outdoors. Sometimes he climbs up the watchtower to look out at the ocean until unconsciousness takes over. Other times, he just winds up wherever he sits down, waking up a few hours later incredibly uncomfortable and completely disoriented.

Worse still, he thinks Grandma might be catching on. Aryll, too. They keep staring at him when they think he isn’t looking, and it’s putting him on edge. As usual, he can’t tell at all what the King is thinking, but (from personal experience) he knows him to be _highly_ observant, so he wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already figured out the situation and more.

If only he knew how to _fix_ it. That would be the real winner.

He feels like he gets _slightly_ more rest on the days when he keeps himself as busy as possible, so he does everything within his power to fill every second of sunlight with activity. He helps Grandma with every single task he can think of—cooking, cleaning, laundry—she finally has to draw the line at sewing, when he pricks his finger (and dribbles blood on the shirt he’s mending) one too many times.

“Go have some fun,” she shoos him out, looking mildly bemused as he so reluctantly makes his way to the door. He doesn’t miss how her expression changes to concern just as the door closes behind him. He knows she’s trying to help, in her own way, but he doesn’t _have_ anything fun to do—that’s the problem. He’s done every fun activity he can think of three times already this week. He doesn’t want to have fun right now, he just wants to be busy. To tire himself out enough during the day so he doesn’t have to work so hard at it during the night.

He’ll just have to find something else to do, then. Maybe Aryll could use his help with something…

Although if he looks this bad today (which he surely must) maybe it’s best to steer clear of his family for a little while.

 

Daphnes doesn’t like to be the enforcer of rules. As King, he’d had to make plenty of decisions that affected plenty of people, but conflict always left a bad taste in his mouth. He’ll do what he has to do in order to keep things cohesive and running as smoothly as possible, but that doesn’t mean he has to enjoy it.

The difference about this “conflict” is, it’s on a much more…personal level, you could say.

As in, he’s going to have to make Link admit to _something_ , whether he likes it or not.

Grandma has confided in him her worries—confirming what he himself had already suspected. Link seems distant, strange, and (something the King _hadn’t_ known) she can hear him leaving and re-entering the house at odd hours of the night. She has no idea what he’s doing, but it certainly can’t be _good_ given his recent demeanor. The King has to reluctantly agree. Something is definitely wrong, and they need to get down to the bottom of it before Link gets himself into real trouble.

The thought is almost laughable, considering all the trouble the King himself had helped him get into in the not-so-distant past. Any trouble he could wind up in on Outset Island should shrink in comparison, but he intends to take this no less seriously than as if it were a life-or-death situation.

That’s just his nature, he supposes. It’s all or nothing.

So Daphnes waits that evening, goes through the motions of getting ready for bed, and then sits quietly to listen. It’s been a long day for him—worrying takes more energy than he had ever thought—but he knows he has to remain vigilant. They need to figure all of this out, sooner rather than later. The sheer uncertainty of what Link has been up to is more than enough to keep him awake long into the—

Sure enough, the household hasn’t been settled down to bed for even an hour before he hears the front door gently click and creek open, then close just as lightly.

That’s his cue, and he gets up off of his bed, following the noise outside. Link is already a little ways down the path, but turns around at the sound of following footsteps. Daphnes doesn’t mean to completely startle him, after all—just catch him off guard a little. It obviously works, as Link’s eyes widen for just a second before a look of resignation passes over his face. He knows he’s been caught and there’s no point in running, so he allows the King to reach him in a few long strides.

“Oh, no you don’t,” he scoops the boy up into his arms, cradling him to his chest as one would a small child. Link puts up no fight, which seems even stranger somehow. What has gotten _into_ him lately? “Everyone is in bed now, and you should be too. What has been g—Link?”

He’s fast asleep.

Well, that was…easy.

Almost _too_ easy, the King decides, returning to the house, and—after a moment of internal deliberation—placing Link in his own bed instead. He figures he’ll keep an eye on him like this for a little while, just in case. There are still too many unanswered questions for him to leave it at that. (Although he doesn’t _think_ Link is really deceitful enough to fake sleep to escape, a little nagging part of him just wants to be absolutely sure.)

And soon, just like that, Link begins to stir. This part he’s _definitely_ not faking, Daphnes decides, because he _jumps_ in surprise when he sees the King so close. He blinks half a dozen times, looks down at himself, carefully scrutinizes the room, then looks back to Daphnes again.

“You want to know how you got here.” It’s a statement instead of a question, because he’s pretty sure he can read Link’s mind at this point.

Link nods, confirming it.

“You were outside,” he explains, “I picked you up and carried you because you fell asleep. Do you not remember?”

Another blink, and a bewildered head-shake.

 _Hm._ That’s something to consider. Not remembering at all—although it _had_ been pretty instantaneous. It’s still certainly strange, that he wouldn’t remember the encounter they’d had only a few minutes ago. Maybe… “Have you been sleep-walking?” That would probably explain much of his behavior.

To dispel that theory comes another shake of the head, prompting the King to look at his charge a little closer, leaning in as if he can solve the mystery in the map of his face. Link doesn’t break eye-contact as Daphnes notices how _tired_ he looks. Had those dark circles always been there? He thinks not. Link finally turns his head, grown weary of being observed so closely, but the damage has been done and the cat is out of the bag.

Daphnes has to voice it. He’s pretty sure he knows, but he always has to make sure. “You have not been sleeping at all. Or at least, not well. Am I correct?”

The tiniest of nods. Obviously it’s not something he had wanted or planned to admit.

He sighs. How could he have missed something so simple? And how long has this been going on? He beckons the boy to come sit on his lap once more, allowing him to curl up in the most comfortable position he can find. Once he’s more or less settled, he begins. “You need to be able to let someone know about things like this. It’s bad enough if you’re having problems, but worse if you…” he trails off as he realizes he’s not being listened to.

Link is asleep again.

 _What in the world…?_ He wonders if he’s being made fun of, but Link truly does seem to be asleep once more. His eyelashes are feather-light against delicate cheeks, and his breathing is slow and even. _Is it worth waking him?_ Almost certainly not, as much as he’d like to. He’d _just_ been about to deliver a lecture on the importance of telling people what you need, but if what Link needs the _most_ right now is a good night’s sleep…

He carefully lifts the small frame, tucking him back into bed again, making sure not to jostle him in any way that might disturb—

And he’s awake again.

Link blinks up at him, and he stares right back. “Did…did I wake you?”

A nod.

Oh.

“Can you go back to sleep?” he’s still sort of confused on what he had _done_ to wake Link, but…

Another nod, but for a moment he doesn’t move. Then, as carefully as possible, Link shrugs out from beneath the covers and returns himself to Daphnes lap. Out of reflex, Daphnes’ hands come to support his legs and head—while he immediately snuggles up close to the King’s chest.

Even though he can’s see most of his face, Daphnes can tell he’s embarrassed because the tips of his ears have gone bright pink. But exhaustion soon wins out over embarrassment as his breathing slows, once again, to the steady rhythm of sleep.

 _He’s listening to my heart,_ the King realizes with a soft sort of jolt. _Why hadn’t he just…?_

But that’s a question for another time, so for now he carefully maneuvers them both under the blankets and settles in for the night.

Link sighs and nuzzles closer, but otherwise does not stir.

 

It becomes somewhat habitual after that. It’s not _every_ night, but whenever Link is beginning to feel restless again, the King always seems to know just when to offer his help with open arms. And into open arms, Link is more than content to crawl, resting his head against the comforting sound of another living, breathing being so close to him. So sometimes he sleeps, sometimes he’s content to just curl up and listen, but every time it soothes his frazzled nerves back into place where they belong.

It’s during one of these times that Daphnes begins to speak without warning, nudging Link out of a little half-doze. Not that he minds—he’s always glad to listen to whatever the King has to say, knowing it is always in his best interest. “You know, this—you—I am glad you’ve put your trust in me during what I am sure is a difficult time and situation for you. You have been struggling, I know, and I cannot begin to know the specifics, but I just thought you should hear that from me.”

Link is happy to have such a person in his life—and beyond that, more than satisfied to listen to the deep thrum of the King’s voice throughout his chest. Even though it’s not feasible, he feels like he could stay here forever. It’s safe, and warm, and just about everything he wants and needs right about now.

Daphnes continues, “You have been through a lot, certainly, but you have also impacted so many lives along the way. Mine being one of them. Your presence in my life makes me indescribably happy—a happiness I never knew I could have felt before our first meeting.”

Link nods, because he feels the same.

“And if there is ever anything you need from me, I will be more than happy to give it to you, if I am able. Your happiness is my happiness, and I want you to know that. I owe my time back here above the surface to you, and I am forever in your debt for making my time here the most joyful it could possibly…”

There’s some other part of it he can’t quite make out, as he drifts between the realm of alertness and sleep, but the low rumble of the King’s voice is too much, the sound of air whooshing in and out of his lungs is too much, and the steady beat of a heart so full of love and life is too much. And as much as he’d like to listen to Daphnes, and as true as he’s sure everything he’s saying is, he’s swept away by relaxation, by safety, and by the feeling of home.

He thinks that, perhaps, might have been what he had been missing all this time.

The last thing he heart before truly drifting off is a question, “Link? Oh, you…”

It’s the best rest he’s gotten in weeks.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me and yell at me at smolhero on tumblr (or you could always commission me!)


End file.
